December 2009
2 posts
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1-3
The dead feed the dirt Their souls flutter above us The natural song pleases the ear, the cries of the mourners, the weeping The widow is pleading. Who are these orphans? Who are these people? White Buffalo is dead. One man observes the sight unseen/his mask himself perfect and complete No one can see this. & I won’t tell you how you will die. Dying is not drama. The catheter is not a...
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“CODA
O My Songs
Why do you look so eagerly and so curiously into...”
– Ezra Pound